


Sand, Snow, Blood

by orphan_account



Category: Wings of Fire - Tui T. Sutherland
Genre: Blood and Violence, Cobra's A+ Parenting, I Blame My Crazy Brain, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I'm Sorry, My First Fanfic, Oblivious Royal Parents, Please Don't Kill Me, Plotline? What Plotline?, Punishment, Seriously Don't Kill Me, Slavery, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, What-If, Why Did I Write This?, Why Yes I'm A Psychopath, Winter Is A Jerk, does this make any sense?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 01:05:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16231001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Okay, so I wrote this fanfic KNOWING that I would make a whole bunch of people angry. I would not be surprised if a mob of enraged Wings of Fire fans charged my house with pitchforks and torches. That said...I'm about to make people even MORE angry.I do not like Winter.GASP, I said it.Sorry, but he's just...not nice. He's a haughty, all-that-and-a-bag-of-chips prince, and not a character I like. In this fic, he's a straight-up jerk. So if you're expecting him to "turn good" through this story, he will, but only slightly. However, even though he could be called the "bad guy" of this fic, he's not really evil...ish. He is cold and cruel, but he's not evil.And also, if you're reading this hoping for Qinter (or whatever the holy heck their ship name is), sorry, but no. I don't ship that, and I probably never will. There may be some very slight Moonbli later on, WAY later, but it will be more out of sympathy than romance. And one more thing- I will not be drawing fanart for this. I couldn't draw a stick figure to save my life.So, without further ado...what would have happened if that fateful day when Cobra sold her youngest dragonet had gone a little differently?





	Sand, Snow, Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Okay.
> 
> YES, I realize that this part is mostly a direct excerpt from Darkness of Dragons, with a few of my own bits and pieces scattered throughout. I am merely using it to set up my plot. I do not own the vast majority of this chapter...all rights belong to Tui T. Sutherland. 
> 
> Since letting my friends and family read the first few drafts of this fic, several of them have begged me to do a version from Winter's POV. (They've also wanted me to turn it into a musical. Ain't gonna happen.) After this story is done, I might post a version like that. But maybe not, because going inside Winter's head in this one would be...traumatic, at best, and cold-sweat nightmare-inducing at worst.
> 
> Winter is a JERK in this fic. I am talking sadistic psycho here, guys...this is no kindergarten teasing or playground bullying. There will be literal torture in this, both mental and physical, but no sexual stuff, because, hello, they're dragons. Now that I think about it, I have no clue why I wrote this...I hate everything good in this world, maybe? But, oh, well- faint heart never wrote freaky fan fiction.
> 
> Also, I am a very slow updater. Apologies in advance.

The Scorpion Den, where Qibli grew up, was a cutthroat world of thieves, con artists, mercenaries, fences, thugs for hire, and assassins. But for really top-notch underhanded work of any kind, everyone knew there was one dragon in the city who outshone them all. Qibli's mother.

Her name was Cobra, daughter of a powerful crime lord. Her skills were legendary among certain circles. The three guests who'd died at Queen Scarlet's wedding years ago? Everyone suspected one of Cobra's nefarious poisons, but no one could ever prove it. The two sisters of Queen Oasis who had vanished into the night? Sure, it might have been the queen herself. But why get her talons dirty when she could afford someone like Cobra?

Rumor even had it that all three SandWing princesses had tried to commission her to kill the others during the War of SandWing Succession. According to the rumor, she'd refused them all on the grounds that an ongoing war was much more profitable for her. 

Qibli had heard all the rumors about his mother. He knew that the biggest mystery in the Scorpion Den was why Cobra had bothered to have her three dragonets, and why she allowed them to live. He'd heard the whispers as he stole pouches of gold coins from under the tables in the tavern down the street.

"She hates dragonets! How does she put up with three of them making noise and taking up space in her house all day?"

"Bah! She'll get sick of 'em sooner or later. They'll be lucky if they get a chance to make a run for it." 

 _Especially that scrawny one,_ the gossipers would say with incredulous chuckles.  _The one with the freckled scales on his nose. The one who talks too much, and notices too much, and sneaks around behind her like a little trail of footprints. The one with the odd name._

That was Qibli.

Everyone said Cobra hated her dragonets, and him most of all, but he didn't believe it. Even when _she_ said it, he didn't really believe it.

Not until the day she sold him.

Qibli remembered the first three years of his life with much more clarity than most young dragons. He remembered the hot, musty smell of the carpets that hung from their walls and covered the floors, mingling with the scent of roasting coriander in the kitchen. 

He remembered the time he found a bowl with a few drops of goat's milk left in it and licked it clean. He remembered the first time he stole something to feed himself- a runty, spotted persimmon that had fallen under a food cart- and how he hid in a fortune teller's tent to eat it, knowing that Rattlesnake or Sirocco would snatch it away if they saw it. 

He remembered the roars of dragons coming to blows on the street outside, and how everyone would fly up to the courtyard walls to watch, and the buckets of sand that hung from every wall so that they could be poured over any fires the fighting dragons might set.

Most of all he remembered lying awake night after night, beside his snoring siblings, watching his mother on the other side of the room. Lit by a single lamp, she would sharpen her blades, mix poisons, study maps and blueprints, or dismember scorpions to study and extract their venom. Qibli would feel the tension shivering through his wings as he waited, night after night, for her to look his way. 

One glance in his direction- one moment where her face would soften, where her love would slip through when she thought no one was looking. That was all he wanted. Just a tiny hint of that secret inner love that he was sure she felt.

But Cobra never looked up at her dragonets, not once in all the nights he watched her.

She never looked over during the day either, while Sirocco and Rattlesnake threw him into walls, trapped his tail in doors, or buried him in sand. His brother and sister realized a lot sooner than Qibli that Cobra didn't care at all what they did.

But Qibli kept trying. He got smarter and faster, hoping she would notice. He turned their traps back on them, learned to dodge and feint and trick them almost every time. Brute strength wouldn't work against two dragonets who were much bigger than him, so his cleverness was the only weapon he had to ensure that he got his fair share to eat.

He was convinced that eventually his mother would have to notice that he was good enough to be worth loving.

Qibli was three and a half years old when he finally realized the truth.

It was an otherwise ordinary day, hot as blazes, and Cobra had ordered them out into the streets because she was expecting a client. (Her exact words were "get your ugly snouts out of here and don't come back until dark, if you must come back at all." Qibli was choosing to find it hopeful that she'd been looking at Sirocco when she said "ugly snouts" and at him when she said "come back," like maybe she was subliminally revealing her true feelings. He came up with a lot of stories like this in his head.)

Other dragonets were always racing around the narrow alleyways that surrounded their house, scrapping and shouting and tussling over trinkets or prey. On that day, however, they weren't fighting. Instead, a crowd of grubby dragonets were gathered in a circle down one of the dead ends, jostling and shouting wagers at one another.

As Rattlesnake muscled her way to the front, Qibli caught a glimpse of fur and a small, quivering, whiskered nose between the talons and tails that blocked his view. 

Qibli took a few steps back, then launched himself up to the window ledge on the second floor of a nearby lamp store. From there he could see down into the cleared patch of space where all the dragonets were focusing their attention. A large scrap of orangeish fur was circling a much smaller, gray bit of fur with a long tail.

"What's going on?" Rattlesnake demanded.

"Taking bets on how long the scritter lasts," one of the wiry orphans answered her, flicking a wing at the gray furball. "Care to wager?" He was so covered in dirt and ashes that he looked half MudWing- which he easily might be. There were several hybrids in the Scorpion Den, since Blister wouldn't tolerate "cross-contamination" in her army and Burn hated them as well.

Qibli squinted and realized the little creature was a spiny mouse, slightly bigger than average. Its ears trembled with terror as it darted around, blocked in on all sides by enormous talons and sunbaked scales and fiery breath. The larger animal stalking it was a cat, which meant it must be the pet of someone important, or else it would have been eaten by now.

"Stupid game," Rattlesnake pronounced, tossing a scornful look at the two mammals. "I'd rather eat them than bet on them."

"Yeah, but those scritters are prickly on your tongue," the other dragon observed. "'Sides, check out what the winner snags." He jerked his head at five coconuts arranged in a small pyramid next to the wall.

_Five_ coconuts! Qibli would have been tempted to place a bet himself, if he'd had anything to wager.

He looked back along the alley toward his house. His mother loved coconut. It was one of the things she never shared with the dragonets, on the rare occasions when she managed to get one.

_I may have nothing to wager,_ Qibli thought,  _but maybe I can get one a different way._

A few moments later, the cat had the spiny mouse cornered. It prowler a step closer...another step...the mouse was petrified with fear...the cat reached out one paw...

And a bucketful of sand cascaded over the cat's head, instantly burying it with a yowl of fury.

"Slasher!" roared one of the watching dragons. She surged forward and began digging frantically in the sand for her cat. "Who did that?"

Everyone was looking up now, but Qibli was already standing innocently in the crowd, casting bewildered looks at the sky. He took a sideways step, "accidentally" treading on the toes of a dragon he knew was prone to hysterics, and as he'd hoped, his mark started screaming melodramatically. Enough dragons jumped and surged around in the confusion that a gap opened up and the mouse darted out of the circle.

At the same time, Slasher the cat burst out of the sand, hissing and spitting furiously.

"Where'd it go?" shouted one of the dragons.

"Who won?" shouted another.

"Don't let the scritter escape!" bellowed a third.

"It went that way!" Qibli yelled, pointing out of the alley.

Dragons stampeded past him, and in the swift, roaring chaos, he managed to snatch one of the coconuts, tuck it under his wing, and hustle out along with the thundering crowd. 

At the corner, everyone scattered, searching for the little creature. Qibli made his way casually toward his own house.

An adult IceWing was lingering outside, watching the gang of dragonets descend into finger-pointing and fighting. She gave him a speculative look as he approached.  _What was an IceWing doing in the Kingdom of Sand, much less the Scorpion Den?_ Qibli decided not to worry about it. She probably wouldn't stick around long, anyway.

"Morning," Qibli said, tipping his head toward her. He darted inside and scampered through into the back room where his mother always met with clients. He was in luck; whoever she was waiting for hadn't arrived yet. She crouched, alone, behind her table, studying a document with a scrawled sketch of a dragon's face on it.

He was also not in luck, because she was evidently in a terrible mood. Her head snapped up and she gave him an evil glare.

"Get out," she snarled.

"I brought you something," Qibli said quickly. He produced the coconut and held it out in his trembling talons. "I stole it for you."

Cobra rose to her feet, spreading her wings until she seemed to fill the entire room.

"You stole a coconut," she hissed. "And you brought it to me." She took a step towards him.

"Yes," he said proudly. "I know you like them, so-"

"Have I taught you  _nothing_ about survival?" she snarled. She smashed the coconut out of his talons and threw him into the wall. Qibli's head collided painfully with a torch sconce.

"You survive!" Cobra bellowed. "That's all you have to do! Nobody is ever going to take care of you! A dragon looks out for herself  _and no one else._ You weak little worm, if you steal a coconut,  _you keep it for yourself."_

She reached out to grab him again, but just then someone cleared her throat from the doorway. 

Cobra whirled around, almost nicking Qibli with her venomous tail. Through his tears, Qibli recognized the dragon who'd been watching the fray outside. She angled her head to study him sideways for a moment.

"Am I interrupting something?" she asked.

"Just trying to teach my idiot son a lesson," Cobra hissed. 

"About...what exactly?" asked the stranger.

Cobra folded her wings back. "He thinks about other dragons too much. It's going to get him killed one day."

"Interesting," said the other dragon. Her eyes flicked from Qibli to the coconut to Cobra, as if she were reading the story of what had just happened. "I happen to be looking for a dragon who...works well with others, let's say. I'd like to take him off your talons."

"He's not for sale," said Cobra. Qibli glanced up at her. That sounded like she cared enough to keep him...except that she'd said it in her "opening negotiations" voice, not her "and that's final" voice. As though she was only bartering to get a better offer.

"Give him to me," said the other dragon, "and I'll make it worth your while."

Cobra's eyebrows arched. "Should I care about your gold?"

"Yes. I can see from your house that...business...has been slow since the war ended. You need my money. If I'm willing to pay a sack of gold to take him off your claws, that's an offer you should jump at." The dragon stepped past Cobra and beckoned to Qibli. "Come along, dragon who cares too much."

"I didn't say you could take him, Crystal," Cobra snapped. 

"But I am taking him," Crystal answered calmly.

"Why would you want him?" Cobra tried. "He's useless. He's completely ordinary. He'll never do anything important."

"Ordinary may be just what I'm looking for," said Crystal. "Or perhaps I just want him to steal  _me_ some coconuts. You don't need to worry about it, because you won't be seeing him again."

"Huh," Cobra snorted. "That would be an upside."

Qibli looked from one to the other in disbelief. His mother was about to back down- and he'd never seen her give in to anyone except his terrifying grandfather. Who was this strange dragon who wanted to steal him? Was Cobra afraid of her?

The IceWing dropped a small, jingling sack into Cobra's claws and turned to Qibli again. "Time to go."

"But-" Qibli tried to protest. "My mother-"

"Doesn't want you here," finished Cobra. She was greedily digging about inside the sack.

Qibli blinked hard, trying to hold back his tears. His mother definitely wouldn't want to keep him if he cried.

The strange dragon looked into his face, and he realized for the first time how blue her eyes were. He'd never seen anyone with eyes so clear, and blue, and...cruel.

"Come on, SandWing," she ordered. "I won't tell you again."

"B-but," Qibli choked out, "I w-want my m-mother t-to-"

"To love you and care for you?" Crystal said. "She doesn't. You belong to me now. Let's go."

She turned toward the door. 


End file.
